Eragon Vraelson
by Sue-Drae
Summary: I've never read a fanfic where Eragon was Vrael's son, alive at the time of the Fall. So, naturally, I wrote one. Read inside for details. I might continue, might not. It depends on feedback and my schedule so, if you like it, please tell me so I know to continue it! No pairings as of yet. NOTE: THIS IS NOT A TIME TRAVEL FIC, THIS IS AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

I swear to God that I am not actually back. I have just been playing around with this idea enough that I have four chapters. I'm not too crazy about it but, depending on what kind of feedback I get from it, I might continue it or let someone adopt this.

I don't own Inheritance

* * *

"My lord," a familiar voice spoke, eliciting a soft sigh from the figure behind the curtain "Lord Vrael bade me to wake you. He said to tell you that the final preparations are being made and you must be present. I assume that you know what he's talking about, since he didn't see fit to enlighten me."

"Understood. I shall be down shortly," the young man said, pulling on his breastplate and straightening his sword on his hip so that he could reach it easily. Friend of my heart, we are needed.

I don't doubt it, little one, the soothing voice of his companion chimed in his mind. The elf rolled his shoulders with a grim smile, turned to the young rider still waiting and bowed his head.

"Once more, Kohr, you need not address me so formally. My name, which I expect you to call me, is Eragon. I have enough of that 'my lord' business from the early phase and middling apprentices. You're approaching the age of consideration, aren't you? Do you look forward to being able to teach the young apprentices their place here?"

"Assuming we all survive this coming siege, then yes," the human said with a nervous chuckle. Eragon smiled broadly enough to ease the boy, hiding his inner turmoil with the social graces that he had been taught from childhood. Eragon, out of respect for his human companion, grasped the young man's shoulder firmly, reassuringly.

"Ah, you can worry about the strike if it pleases you. I'll remain more distressed on the inevitable overtime we'll be pushed to whilst trying to clean up the aftermath of this messy affair. You know Vrael's strength as well as any of the apprentices; worry not for him."

"But myself? And my friends?"

"Do not lose your conviction yet. This battle has hardly begun, just as this war is far from lost."

* * *

With a sigh, Eragon stepped out from behind the trees, sure at last that he had managed to lose Kohr in the woods. Kohr, though a good man, was all too nosy for his own good and, in such an important matter as this, neither Eragon or the others could afford prying eyes.

"Eragon," another familiar voice called out, a small lilt alerting Eragon to the smile on the older elf's face. Eragon approached his old masters, very easily catching sight of Glaedr's brilliant gold scales.

"Master Oromis," Eragon greeted with a bow before beginning the traditional greeting. "May good fortune rule over you."

"Peace be in your heart," Oromis continued.

Let us hope for peace outside our bodies as well. A growl accompanied Glaedr's words as he looked around. The sun continues higher- our window grows short.

"Easy, friend," Oromis said lightly though Eragon could hear the soft harmonies in the elf's voice that betrayed his own worry. "Vrael has many duties, this being just one."

This is a strange sight to behold, a familiar voice spoke to Eragon, causing him to look up as a dazzling glint caught his eye. His eyes honed in on the indistinct figure as the blue dragoness grew closer and closer, becoming more clear with each second. And a stranger feeling too... I feel as if we are damning my kind, our kind, in the hopes of saving them.

This is a last resort, Eragon reminded Saphira softly. If the precautions were unneeded, that was all for the better. In the very likely case that the remnants of the Order fell, the horde of eggs and Eldunari held beneath the surface of the island would be the last hope for the continuations of the dragons' species and of the memory of the Order.

Let us hope that it proves needless, Saphira said as she lightly touched down in the clearing. Bowing her head, she offered her greetings to Oromis and Glaedr. Just as she finished, Eragon felt two new minds nearing them and, after a quick study, knew them to be the last of their party.

"Vrael and Umaroth approach," he announced, his ears searching for the wingbeats as familiar to him as Saphira's or his own heartbeat. True to his word, the shining white dragon very quickly appeared over the treeline. As the massive dragon touched down, Saphira shifting closer to Glaedr so as not to be placed beneath the older dragon's thick spiked tail, Vrael leapt down to join Eragon and Oromis on the ground. Though his face was unmarred by lines of age, Eragon had never seen the Lead Rider so tired or old.

"There is little time left and much to be done," Vrael said after greeting his compatriots. "The last of the eggs were transported to the cavern half a moon ago and the Eldunari have been readied for their isolation. Have the wards been set about the entrance?"

"All but the very last," Oromis reported faithfully. "All that remains is the final enchantment."

"Eragon, have you become prepared to enact your part?" Vrael asked somberly. Eragon nodded, bowing his head respectfully.

"I have, Father." At Eragon's words, Vrael's eyes seemed to lighten for just a moment. He reached out, laying a steady hand against Eragon's shoulder. "I shall not let my mission be abandoned."

Nor shall I. Even if we must wait a hundred years, I refuse to let the Dark One sit on his undeserved throne while the masses suffer, Saphira growled threateningly. Vrael chuckled softly and Oromis smiled as their own companions growled in agreement.

He shall not go unpunished, Glaedr rumbled. Umaroth, the eldest dragon in the clearing, bowed his head as if sadly.

So many of our kin slain... No more. Saphira Brightscales, when none of we may guide you, remember this day and your oath. Time may have tempered the anger of me, but I cannot deny my own desire for justice.

"We all crave justice in the face of such atrocities, but we must bide our time," Vrael counseled, closely his eyes briefly. Opening them once more, he turned to Eragon. "You bear a great name, Eragon, and a heavy burden. They are not yours' alone, nor should you treat them as such. And if the weight of our sins and Galbatorix's crimes seem too heavy and venomous to lift, know that I have always been proud to call you my son."

Eragon's throat threatened to tighten before he forced himself to swallow. He bowed deeply to his father before looking to Saphira.

"The window of opportunity narrows as we speak."

Aye. We must act now, lest all be lost.

"I shall see you on the-"

Battlefield, Oromis-ebrithil-

"Glaedr-ebrithil, Umaroth-elda, Father."

May the wind rise beneath your wings-

"And your swords stay sharp," Eragon finished. Saying his last goodbyes, Eragon withdrew to the Rock of Kuthian itself. Sitting himself down, he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the magic as it swirled within the nature around him. Saphira curled around his motionless figure carefully and closed her eyes, laying her head just next to him. Bringing their minds closer and closer, the lines between Rider and dragon all but vanished as Eragon lost himself further and further in his meditation, determined to focus solely on the world around him to create his own sphere of isolation.

The work was difficult, but Eragon and Saphira had spent as much time as reasonable practicing at this. By binding their minds together so strongly, it ensured that neither could forget of the Vault of Souls while the other remembered. The most important function of their joint meditation, however, was to create the sphere of energy surrounding the two that was Eragon's current goal. By molding the energy around and within both he and Saphira, he wished to create a space that could be completely invincible and impenetrable by ward or enchantment. While not suitable for battle thanks to the time-consuming nature of the shield and the need for complete and deep meditation for the sphere to truly be effective, the shield did have its benefits. If molded correctly, Eragon believed that it would guard he and Saphira from the enchantment that Vrael and Oromis would begin to weave in just a few short minutes when the shield was fully established.

Resisting the urge to open his eyes to see if the shield, evidenced by a silvery purple mist, had begun to thicken around him, Eragon focused on his heartbeat to center his mind's eye. So keen on the steady pounding of his and Saphira's hearts, Eragon failed to recognize as Oromis and Vrael vanished to the Vault of Souls to weave the enchantment with the strength of the dragons' Eldunari.

* * *

A/N:

If you've read almost anything by me, you will know that I _love_ time travel fics or things in that general mold. I've never read one where Eragon was Vrael's son. I thought that that would make such an interesting story with the conflict against Galbatorix and I wondered how that would change the dynamic between Eragon and Brom so instead of being father/son or mentor/student, they'd be on a more equal field or Eragon would be higher ranked.

If I continue this, I won't have Arya taking Eragon's original place as the rider. That will either be an OC, Murtagh, or Roran. Maybe Katrina. She'd probably be fun to write as a rider... Are there any fics where Katrina is a Rider? If you find one, leave me a link in the reviews, alright? I'm seriously thinking that that would be cool.

Again, if you like this idea or are curious to see what _could_ happen, make sure you leave a review and tell me. Otherwise I'm not going to bother and I'll crawl back into my little actual-life cave and sleep.

... I actually just laughed at the idea of me having an actual life. Literally, all of my time is eaten by drama, choir, other choir, other choir, color guard, home work, stupid projects, finally reading House of Hades (it's still not okay!), and, believe it or not, getting ready to larp for my first time.

I'm that cool: larping. I'm going to be a Grey Elf called Eliandre when I've gotten enough experience npc-ing to upgrade my character into a cool person.

Okay, enough of my nerding.

Byes!

Sue

PS: I'm really not back, really! I'm sorry for the two updates getting your hopes up (if they did, that is)!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

WOW.

When I asked for positive feedback, I definitely didn't expect all of what I got. So far the count is up to fifteen reviews, nine favorites, and eleven alerts. To put it into perspective, that is more reviews than ten of my other stories, more favorites than five, and more alerts than six. O.O

Good to know ya'll liked it... And I'm really sorry about the delay. There'll be more about that in the post-chapter A/N but I know you guys don't care about why I'm so late, you just want to get to the story ;)

I still don't own Eragon.

* * *

Eragon was unsure of how much time had passed until a hand had fallen on his shoulder. Resisting the urge to remove the offending limb, as he had a rather good guess on who was interrupting his meditation, Eragon opened his eyes to see his father standing above him.

Vrael, though he normally wore some sort of armor as his usual garb as the Lead Rider, looked ready to march into battle. Elven-made chain mail was barely visible beneath a gleaming silver chestplate engraved with the Order's motif, a fierce dragon curled around a large sword. The dragon held a scroll in one of its forepaws and an olive branch in the other. Down the sword were glyphs declaring _Wiol Mor'ranr, Wiol Thorta_- For Peace, For Truth- in the ancient language.

"We have been looking for you, Eragon. What are you doing so far into the forest when there is still so much to be done?" Vrael's tone was almost disapproving and, though it pained Eragon to be unable to truthfully answer his father, the younger elf was overjoyed that the plan had succeeded. The eggs and the Eldunari were safe. Now all that remained was to survive the coming battle.

"I was searching for a moment of peace before there was none left to be found. I am sorry if I was needed," Eragon said as smoothly as he could. Vrael, an understanding light in his eyes, merely nodded.

"Come, now. Oromis and Glaedr have already departed for Illirea with Kialandi and Formura and the younger apprentices are in need of a steady watch."

"Saphira and I shall see to them," Eragon bowed his head. Vrael gave the slightest of smiles and looked to Saphira.

"Keep him safe, Saphira."

_With all that I am_, Saphira promised. _And, Eragon-Father, defend yourself diligently as well. If the moment approaches, strike with the ferocity of the fallen in your blade. Bring light to the Mad One's darkness._

"As is my duty, I am honor-bound," Vrael nodded, a sadness in his eyes once more. Seeing that sadness, Eragon felt a fluttering of worry for his father, only now considering the fact that he may not survive this encounter. The Mad King has collected many Eldunari from the fallen, and had so grown more powerful. How powerful, though, was yet to be seen.

But soon, Eragon's concerns were scattered to the winds. Vrael and Umaroth departed to prepare the remaining riders and dragons for combat while Eragon and Saphira met with the youngest of the apprentices to prepare them for what was to come.

It felt hollowing to see such young souls preparing for war. Under the Order, no war had ever called for such children to touch arms. Now, in the face of a siege and final assault on the home of the Dragon Riders, the youngest, hardly twelve and thirteen, were sharpening their swords with shaking fingers. Eragon strode into the apprentices' hall, Saphira going to the courtyard to meet with their companions. The youngest paired dragon was hardly eight months old, too young to fly into battle. If there had been more time, Eragon knew that Vrael would have looked to evacuate these youngling apprentices to Du Weldenvarden, but there was simply not enough time for a safe retreat and the distance was too great for many of the young dragons, the youngest of which being only six months old.

"Lord Eragon," an apprentice, a young human boy recognized as Steghan, called out in surprise and confusion. The red headed boy, around thirteen years of age, sheathed the blade he'd been clumsily swinging about as if he were sparring against an invisible foe.

"Steghan," Eragon bowed his head in greeting. He looked about the room as the apprentices all took notice of him, each human bowing their head and elf touching their lips in respect. "Come, all of you. We must speak..."

Seating at a table, Eragon soon found himself joined by all fourteen of the youngest apprentices. Eragon drew his sword and laid it on the table, causing the others to do the same. After a few minutes of silence, Eragon's eyes drifted from the sword-laden table to each pale-faced apprentice.

"Today, we shall be attacked by ones we once called comrades... Riders and dragons we all knew and loved as our own, our brothers and sisters, but now must call enemy and betrayer.

"I shall not lie to you, just as I have never lied to any of you. The odds on this day are against us by a wider margin than any Elder would lead you to believe. This day and the days following will be known as the Fall of an Era, of an Order. Sacrifices shall be made and much blood will be spent. Therein lies my request...

"Spend this time wisely. This may be the last day that you join for supper together 'round the same table. Spend what time you can with your sisters, your brothers, and your partners... Few have spoken to you, I'm sure, of the pain of losing your partner... It is not something I would wish on anyone, least of all any of you here. I know that none of you have been long bonded, but that will not lessen the pain and grief you will feel if you allow your partner to slip away from you. Guard your partner with your life as, without them, life will be meaningless. To live with half of a soul is hardly a life at all."

Eragon's eyes drifted away from the apprentices and towards the window as the afternoon light drifted lazily in. His gaze settled on the two that had been apprenticed under him, a young pair of elves, both female. One was named Kuarai, the other Cyainir.

"If you wish to write letters to your families, I and every other member of this Order will understand. I have been released of my duties until the battle and am therefore at your disposal. If you wish to ask or tell me anything, do so without hesitance. As I said, I shall not lie and shall answer you as truthfully as I may by the laws of the Order."

Met with silence, Eragon nearly picked up his sword to sheathe it until he noticed Kuarai look to him intently.

"Eragon-ebrithil... If I were to write my father a letter, would you see that it is safely delivered?" she asked, the aloof bravado she nearly always wore beginning to chip and fall away as sadness and acceptance glowed dimly in her slate-blue eyes.

"Upon my honor as a Rider, and my name as Eragon Vraelson, I shall see to it." Switching to the ancient language briefly, Eragon added, "With sword or spell, I shall defend your words dutifully."

"I thank you, Eragon-ebrithil," Kuarai responded in kind quietly before standing and striding away, likely to track down parchment and ink.

Eragon, keeping to his word, stayed with the apprentices for the rest of the day. He had answered questions on the workings of nature, sung happily and mournfully in the elven tongue, accepted letters addressed to fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers, and more. He helped the apprentices to sharpen their swords and, herding them outside, spoke to their partners as Saphira spoke to the young children.

As the day drew to a close and the young riders were called to join the rest of the Order in the mess hall for supper, Eragon had never felt so sad yet so very proud. Each of the apprentices knew that they would not likely live to the week's end yet they took heed of his words, devoting their time to each other, to themselves, and to their goodbyes. As he watched them from his seat at Vrael's table, Eragon had little hunger.

_They would have made wonderful riders_, Eragon couldn't help but say to Saphira. _Each and every one, if only they'd be given the chance._

_Dear one... Can you not see?_ Saphira asked softly in reply. _They already are._

* * *

_The calm before the storm is unsettling_, Eragon noted thoughtfully as he watched the last minute preparations. Dark had fallen quickly the night before, yielding to uneasy sleep and early awakenings. From dawn, the hammerings of armor and sword could be heard through the city. Riders dressed in full battle armor were a common sight along the streets as they ensured that all was ready. The libraries were safely stored in the catacombs hidden under the great city. The blades of the already fallen riders that had managed to be recovered were already sent away on the last ship to the mainland with the last of the non-riders that had made Doru Araeba their home, those who had been smiths, traders, and scholars.

The first warning of the oncoming assault was a single roar that threatened the health of eardrums all around. Colors and shapes flitted by as wild and bonded dragons alike took to the air. Sounds of clashing metal rang sharply and violently through the air, accompanied by the roaring and growling tearing the air above asunder.

And all sense was lost to the ferocity of the battle. There was no past, no future. There was the war.

* * *

Days must have passed with little reprieve. Eragon and the other riders were steadily tiring, as were their dragons. So many had already been slain, but the Forsworn and their dark leader were unfailing in their quest for control and power. Powered by thieved Eldunari, the fourteen pairs of rider and dragon broke apart the Order as it existed, tearing and slashing at the bonds of the society that had borne them and the history that had stood for so many years.

Eragon fought with the young apprentices close to his side but was all but helpless to stop as they and their young dragons were cut down before their prime. He watched as hearts broke as he watched dragon and rider be separated by the veil of death, only to be reunited when their other half was also felled.

Even in his sorrow at the loss of such innocence, Eragon could not help but grudgingly respect the Forsworn's methodical destruction of all that he loved. They were swift and strong in each blow, spilling lifeblood without care before moving on to their next victim. He himself was all but distracted as he faced one of the Forsworn as another quickly dispatched the young riders he had spent the day previous with. The Forsworn, a male elf Eragon knew to be named Aegnor, pitted against him did not stop until the second Forsworn finished her work, dispatching the last of the apprentices with ease. Aegnor, seeing his companion finish, offered Eragon a cruel smile before launching into a flurry of blows with renewed vigor. Eragon fought back against the elf as best he could, drawing on the energy stored within the sapphire resting in the pommel of his sword, Brisingr. Fueled by the energy, Eragon pushed Aegnor onto the defensive and, seeing her comrade in increasing danger, the second of the Forsworn, a female elf named Sasha. In the back of his mind, Eragon recalled that the two were mated.

Sasha deftly wove between her mate and Eragon, her brilliant yellow blade parrying Eragon's away from Aegnor's vulnerable side. Caught off guard for just a moment, Eragon was too slow to prevent the two Forsworn from retreating away from him, both dashing towards their next slaughter. Eragon moved to give chase, but stopped at a low gurgle. He froze, his eyes searching the fallen apprentices to see the elf Kuarai reaching out towards her rich purple dragon. Eragon knew that it was too late for the dragon, whose once regal hide was dyed red violet with her own blood. Before he could resist, Eragon was caught in the piteous moment and, though he knew he was wasting potentially valuable time, he sheathed his sword and went to Kuarai's side, kneeling beside her.

"I am here," Eragon said softly, gathering the younger elf in his arms and carefully lifting her up. Kuarai's breath hitched but she did protest as Eragon gently carried her to the purple dragon's side. Laying her carefully down beside her companion, Eragon could not ignore the tears welling in the usually stoic elf's pale eyes.

"Ebrithil..." Kuarai's voice was low and shaking, hardly audible. Eragon took the elf's hand gently, knowing he could do nothing to heal her wounds and acknowledging that, even if he could, it would perhaps be better to let her go. To save Kuarai now would be to condemn her to a life without half of her soul. "My sister lives still in Ceunon... Please tell her... I am sorry... I will not get to meet her mate. Please don't- don't let her mourn... After all..." Tears began to trail down the elf's dirtied face but a smile spread across her lips. "Sainya and I shall be together soon."

"I shall carry your words in my heart, Kuarai... Sleep now... I shall not leave you."

Eragon kept his word. He did not stray from the dying elf's side until her hand grew limp in his and her eyes closed for the last time. Closing his own eyes sadly, Eragon brushed the hair from her face, murmuring a blessing in the ancient language that, wherever she and Sainya were now, they were together and peaceful.

Eyes hardening, Eragon stood from the dead elf's side, retrieving her sword from the ground where it had fallen before moving through the small clearing, collecting the swords of the fallen apprentices. Recalling the words from the ancient language for the unusual spell, Eragon opened a pocket of space so that he could carry the swords easily. He would not let so many works of the elf-smith Rhunon go to Galbatorix so easily. A rider's sword was a symbol of power, hope, and honor. He would not let even one fall into darkness without another option.

Hand tightening around the hilt of his own sword, Eragon's eyes turned to the sky as he searched for Saphira. Spotting her quickly, Eragon was relieved to note that she was holding her own against a slate grey dragon with ease, skillfully manipulating her body so that she could incapacitate him and go for a killing blow. As he watched, the two began to fall to earth, both writhing and growling, jaws snapping at the other. A flicker of indecision and fear was quickly banished by pride and happiness as the two parted hardly a hundred feet from the treeline. Saphira sailed away gracefully as the maroon dragon, still protesting angrily as he tried to catch himself with a clearly broken wing, slam into the trees painfully. Eragon tried not to think of the maroon dragon's fate when the growling and roaring of the dragon ended.

_Saphira!_

Seeing his thoughts as clearly as her own, Saphira released an angered roar before diving towards him. His grief at the loss of the apprentices was soon overpowered by her rage at her slaughtered kin.

_Murderers_, she hissed as she landed harshly, her razor sharp talons tearing away at the earth and rock beneath her. Before she had even come to a full stop, Eragon leapt to her saddle and the two were off once more. _The Mad One best pray that Vrael ends him swiftly, or I shall prolong his demise._

Rather creative images of blood, fire, and shadows flew from Saphira's mind to Eragon's and he tried his best to keep his composure, trying to assure himself that a swift end for Galbatorix and his followers would be best for all involved.

_Speak for yourself,_ Saphira growled, flying faster and faster towards the center of the fighting. From her back, Eragon watched as Forsworn, both on dragonback and on the ground, fought against their once-allies. The ground was strewn with the dead and the earth so soaked with blood that it ran in red-black streams towards the surrounding forest.

* * *

A/N:

I hope you liked it!

I'm going to say it write now: I love the idea of Eragon being a teacher. That in mind, if I continue to have even a little imagination for this universe, then you can expect some mentoring flashbacks within this story or stand alone one shots posted with the disclaimer that they take place in the Vraelson universe.

Now the more fun stuff: I want to thank everyone that's reviewed/favorited/alerted/messaged me about this story and I'd also like to, at the same time, sincerely apologize. If you've read any of my other stuff or if you ask anyone who _has_, you'll know that I'm a wreck when it comes to updating. I tend to not update for months and then post eight or nine chapters in one night. It's just how I write.

I'm not a fan of the 'posting a chapter on _this_ day each and every week.' In my experience, that makes the chapter messy because I didn't have the time to really think about it. The month-long hiatuses I take are spent writing, plain and simple. I took a break from A Chance to Change (a Naruto time-travel fic) and, in that time, finished the story and wrote a third of the sequel. Then I was ready to update at my own pace even if it frustrated readers.

So again, thank you and I'm sorry for any future cliff hangers (though they'll never be as bad as Mark of Athena or Sherlock, I promise!).

Lots of Love,

Sue

PS: I want to give a special shout out to The Werewolf Assassin right now: thanks for letting me know about the thought speak/italics issue. I already went back and changed it for chapter one. The thing is, I don't actually have Microsoft Office on my laptop so I use Google Drive religiously, meaning I use the cut and paste method to update. Cutting and pasting, though, gets rid of little editing things like italicizing. Sorry for not noticing and thanks for making me aware of the issue! Oh, and thanks for following too!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

Chapter three, out at last!

Hope you like it, even if this series is not profitable to me in any way, shape, or form. Outside of reviews. Reviews make me happy.

* * *

In moments, the two were back in the battle. Beside Saphira was an aquamarine dragon bonded to a younger human whose sword parried blow after blow from a red rider. Eragon knew the two riders rather well. They had been apprenticed to his old master, Oromis. Now they were enemies.

"Morzan," Eragon growled, slashing out at one of the Forsworn, an elf named Glaerun, as the male tried to defend Morzan's side. Glaerun, vulnerable to the blow as he went to defend his master's favorite servant, fell away to the side, yelling out in pain as he cradled his side, blood beginning to seep into the elf's clothing.

Morzan and Brom parted, both distracted from the other as Eragon came to the battle. Brom was panting with exertion but it appeared as if Morzan had hardly been trying. The red rider bore a sneer as he looked to Eragon.

"Ah, the Lord Eragon has come to grace us with his presence!" he said scathingly. Eragon only stepped closer to the two riders, his pace slow and control as Saphira joined the aquamarine dragon in the air to fight Morzan's dragon. Unphased by his new enemy's confident pace, Morzan gave a mocking bow, flourishing his bloody blade as he bent at the waist.

"Enough of your games, Morzan. I have not the patience for your silver tongue."

"Silver tongue? Oh, sir, you flatter me," Morzan returned, straightening out of his bow. As Eragon came to stand hardly six feet away, Morzan's eyes narrowed and he lifted his blade towards Eragon. "I was never one for silver... A sword of steel is without character. A silver sword is a toy, an innocent plaything... No. I was always tempered more for a weapon of color, and what color is more fitting?" Lifting his blade, dyed both through Rhunon's crafting and with the blood of those he's already slain, Morzan grinned. "Why want for a blade that lies to itself? A weapon of war, to be painted red in its quest- should it not already be hued so?"

Eragon did not deign to reply and instead darted forward using his speed, still superior to the human rider's, to catch the red rider off guard. Morzan recovered quickly, though, and leaned away to avoid the blow, holding his red sword at an angle to parry the blow. Brisingr and Zar'roc clashed with a flurry of sparks even as Eragon whirled to kick out at Morzan's knees.

Glaerun, healing himself with the strength of the Eldunari Galbatorix had entrusted to him, attempted to rejoin the fight and come to Morzan's assistance but Brom circumvented him easily. The two pairs of riders fought with all of their strength and skill until a pained roar rang above them. Attention stolen for just a moment, Brom was powerless to fight off Glaerun's advancing sword and could only turn to reduce the damage struck as Glaerun's sword caught his leg, wounding him. Though the wound was not fatal, it left Brom wide open for a following blow. Seeing his ally's state out of his peripheral vision, Eragon kicked Morzan back, forcing the red rider to skid backwards some feet. Eragon abandoned Morzan to recover as he leapt between Brom and Glaerun. Catching Glaerun by surprised, Eragon did not make the mistake of leaving him alive as he did the first time. With careful and precise blows, Eragon dispatched the traitor with minimal effort, his limbs fueled by the rage of another comrade wounded for the sake of Galbatorix's hunger for power. Glaerun's sword fell to the ground half a moment before the elf himself fell, gurgling as his own blood filled his lungs. The gurgling died quickly and Glaerun moved no more.

Another roar rang out above, this one stained with anger, but was soon echoed by a low keening. Eragon and Brom were all but helpless to watch as Brom's young aquamarine dragon began to fall towards the rocky ground below. Saphira freed herself from her enemy's claws with a vicious bite to the red dragon's right hindpaw and dove towards her wounded ally, manipulating her body to help support the wounded dragoness's frame as the two continued downward at a safer pace. Eragon raised his right hand when Morzan's dragon recovered from Saphira's harsh bite, knowing that the red dragon would try to attack while Saphira was so vulnerable.

"Garjzla!" he called, summoning the energy from within himself. A bolt of light erupting from his palm, arcing and flying upwards with a loud crack and a burning smell, striking the red dragon at the joint between his body and his left wing. The muscles about the joint, Eragon knew, contracted and spasmed the moment the light struck, forcing the dragon from his target as he tried to stabilize his flight. The task, however, was difficult enough that by the time he had regain full use of his wing, Saphira and Brom's dragon were already mere feet from the ground.

An angered yell alerted Eragon to Morzan's approach and Eragon deftly blocked the rider's blow. Morzan's eyes, usually calm and calculating, were clouded with rage and Eragon knew that the rider did not much appreciate having his dragon even temporarily wounded.

"Brom," Eragon called, jaw clenched from the effort of keeping Morzan back. Even though the rider was human, he was still exceptionally skilled with a blade and nearly able to match Eragon blow for blow. There was no doubt in his mind that Galbatorix had used gramarye to improve his human followers' bodies so that they could be a match to their elven opponents. "Go to your dragon! Saphira will help keep her from harm in the meantime, but you must get to her before her wounds take their toll."

Brom could hardly nod before staggering away, all but ignoring his injured leg as he limped towards where the two dragonesses had touched down, leaving even his sword behind in his haste to get to his partner's side.

"Has the prodigal son's cunning left? I had believed that you would have tried to use Brom to distract me in order for you to attain a killing blow," Morzan chuckled darkly. "It is a shame you sent him away. He might have been the only way you could have hoped to overpower me."

"I have only need for my sword to defeat you. Do not treat yourself as a threat to me," Eragon said calmly, knowing that he needed to spark the human's temper to force him into lowering his guard. "A servant existing only for the pleasure of his master's poisonous favor; you are a mere child who has forgotten his place in this world. Allow me to remind you of your insignificance, little one."

As predicted, Morzan's eyes narrowed dangerously. His broad shoulders straightened as his muscles tensed with rage. With a wordless growl that sounded more animal than human, Morzan launched himself at Eragon with a ferocious downward strike. He was too invested in the strike for his own protection, however, and Eragon easily sidestepped the blow and skirted around his defense to launch a stab at Morzan's lightly armored underarm. The blow struck but only lightly as Morzan fell away from the attack but Eragon's goal was accomplished. Morzan, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side, switched his sword to his left hand with a snarl of anger. He could heal it, but not without opening himself to another attack.

"You-"

"Hush, child. Your lesson has not yet been learned," Eragon said to add insult to injury, hiding the exertion the quick attack awarded him. Despite his injury, Morzan only roared in anger once more and rushed forward, wielding his sword expertly even with his non-dominant hand.

As Zar'roc struck Brisingr once more, Eragon knew that he simply did not have the energy to absorb so strong a blow again. Shifting his style, Eragon focused on parrying each blow Morzan sent him, biding his time until another opportunity opened for him to strike. The next time Morzan was overextended, the sapphire blue blade shot out once more, nearly missing. The blow that was intended to remove the rider's usable hand clashed with the hilt of the red sword itself. Its wielder was not unharmed, though. Morzan all but dropped his sword as the tip of his ring finger was cleanly sliced off by Eragon's blade. Enraged and pained, Morzan surprised Eragon with a kick, catching Eragon in the knee and nearly breaking the joint. Eragon fell to the ground, unable to support his weight on his protesting leg. Refusing to be bested, however, Eragon kicked at Morzan's ankles with his good leg, forcing the red rider to stumble back.

Before either rider could recover, a roar rang through the air so loudly that both Eragon and Morzan looked up into the sky. As they watched, a white dragon so massive that it could only be Umaroth was entangled by three smaller dragons, dragons of the Forsworn. With their combined efforts, Umaroth was slowly beginning to lose. Then, with a turn of fortune, Umaroth seized the tail of the largest of the three between his jaws and bit down with all his strength. Eragon and Morzan both watched as the dragon's tail fell away with a rush of blood, causing it to rain blood on the ground below. The dragon fell away in agony, roaring as it clumsily sank to the earth, unable to fly properly with nearly a third of its tail gone. The remaining two dragons flew around Umaroth cautiously before deciding that neither of their tails were worth the sacrifice. Umaroth decided otherwise, however, and gave chase to the others as they tried to escape. A wild dragon came to his aid, but was swiftly shot down by a beam of light originating from somewhere below.

Returning focus to their opponents, Morzan watched as Eragon struggled to his feet.

"It may not be today... It may not be tomorrow... It may not be for a hundred years," Eragon ground out slowly. "But I will see you be defeated. You and your comrades, your precious master, your partners and your own servants... I will watch as you fall and I will think of this day with a smile on my face."

"Not if you are dead," Morzan grinned maliciously. He held up his left hand to show Eragon his damaged finger. "Be proud, Vraelson, that you've dealt me even this much damage. I can assure you that each time I see my hand, I will think of your death here on this day."

Morzan and Eragon both raised their swords for what would be the final exchange only to pause as a bright beacon of light began to shine in a single beam up towards the sky.

"Thuviel," Eragon managed to say before running off, ignoring his opponent in his haste to get to Saphira.

Following the path Brom had cut with Undbitr, Eragon was among the group in less than a minute. Leaving no time for explanation, Eragon summoned all of the energy he could from the surrounding area, himself, and Saphira, throwing up a barrier around him, Brom, and the two dragons. The barrier was set not a moment too soon as a horrifyingly bright flash of light passed over and through their protected dome before disappearing without a trace as quickly as it had come.

_The fall,_ Saphira said softly as Eragon's shield fell away. The forest that they had once been surrounded with was all but destroyed, turned to dust and ash in the face of Thuviel's sacrificial spell.

Eragon, half-delirious with exhaustion, only now noticed Brom. The man was hunched over his dragon, his entire body shaking. Eragon was about to speak before noticing how very still the aquamarine dragon was against the grassy earth. His throat tightened and he looked to Saphira. The sapphire dragoness lowered her head in sorrow.

_Her injuries were too great... Brom arrived in time to hear her last words, but no sooner... Rakta has changed, his heart has focused only on rage and I fear that this was Morzan's doing, his goal, from the beginning. I know that Brom suspects as much as well._

_I will speak to him, but we must leave here now. Spending time here is dangerous after Thuviel's spell and we must regroup with anyone who remains._

_Shall I search for them?_

_If you could... Find whoever remains and tell them that we will regroup at Edoc'sil._

_I shall return soon,_ Saphira murmured, gently touching Eragon's shoulder with her snout before backing away and taking to the sky. As she flew away, Eragon knelt beside Brom, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. Eragon had no idea where to even begin to speak. He was startled when he did not have to speak first.

"She said... She wanted me to live on," Brom said, his voice breaking. The human fell into silence and the grief on his face was so profound Eragon had to swallow so that he could force out the words.

"She lives through you, Brom... Each day that you live is a day that she will be remembered by those who loved and knew her best."

"Lives through me?" the man asked, his voice giving way to anger as his fists tightened at his sides. "What good is _that_? If she lives through me now, then her life is more tortured now than it was yesterday! What am I with half of a soul? What am I to do now that-" Brom stopped speaking suddenly, shaking violently as he bowed his head, bringing his face even closer to his fallen partner's.

"I do not know the grief that you feel, Brom-"

"No, you don't!" Brom interrupted angrily, snapping his head to glare up at Eragon. When their eyes met, however, something in his anger fell away and Brom was reduced to a broken shell of what was once an aspiring rider. "What am I now? Without her... I..."

"... I was made to watch as the youngling apprentices were slaughtered. I may not know your pain as my own, Brom, but I have felt so much through those apprentices... I carried Kuarai to Sainya's side as she died, her last wish to be with her partner. I held her as she died and carry her last words for her sister in my heart, her words to her father in a letter. I felt her despair for Sainya..."

"I have nothing left," Brom whispered. Eragon tightened his hand on the man's shoulder, clenching his jaw.

"You have your life. You have your memories. There are many who were not so fortunate. Channel your grief, your rage, into something great. Galbatorix and his Forsworn live still. We must fight against them for the sake of those fallen and for those subjected still to their cruelty.

"You cannot allow yourself to fade away, Brom. That would only taint her memory and her sacrifice. She loved you; never forget that."

_Few have survived... Galbatorix and his Forsworn have retreated for now, but we have little time. Vrael... Vrael has been wounded, Eragon. He lives, as does Umaroth, but few others escaped Thuviel's spell or the Forsworn. Those that have are already sent onward to Edoc'sil._

_Good._

_How fares Brom?_

_Grieved, though I fear that will soon fall to rage. He will want vengeance against Morzan for this, but hopefully he will chose to bide his time until we have been granted enough time to recover._

_In the meantime, we must leave the island_. As she spoke, Saphira touched down close to Eragon and Brom. She exhaled a hot stream of air towards the two as if in warning.

"Brom, we must leave."

"I can't just leave her," Brom said, shaking his head. Eragon resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that Brom's grief was too raw for him to think clearly. Eragon circled the dragoness and, summoning what energy he dared, Eragon manipulated the earth to make a shielded dome with a single entrance around both Brom and his fallen partner.

"This is the closest to a burial that we can afford... We must leave," Eragon said to Brom through the doorway. Brom stood reluctantly, kissing his fallen partner between her closed eyes before turning away, walking quickly to Saphira. Eragon, hesitating for a moment, knelt and picked up what he recognized immediately as an aquamarine scale. Murmuring a quick spell to preserve it as it was, Eragon slipped the scale into his pocket, planning to give it to Brom once they were in less dangerous territory.

He closed the dome off, encapsulating Brom's steadfast companion in stone so that the wildlife could not ravage her. Lamenting that he had neither the time nor the energy to give the rest of the fallen a proper burial, Eragon returned to Saphira, deftly climbing into the saddle. After ensuring that Eragon and Brom were both secure, Saphira took a deep breath before taking off once more, her powerful wings slicing through the air.

* * *

A/N:

Little fighting, little maiming, you know how it goes.

Obviously it's a work in progress, but I've been working on my fight scenes because, at least to me, that's one of my weaker points. Big fights and romance are my weaknesses... But, anyway! I'd really appreciate it if you guys could tell me how you felt with the battling. Any advice or recommendations of authors who seem to know what they're doing would be welcomed.

Now, in the course of this story, thanks to the fact that I've gone and made Eragon _older_ than Brom (remember, Brom's not his father. They are in no way related to each other outside of being riders in the old Order.) I couldn't very well name Brom's dragon Saphira I and Eragon's Saphira II. So, as my headcanon for the purposes of this story, I'm going to call Brom's dragon Cyranis because, from what descriptions I've had of her, she was an aquamarine dragoness to begin with. So I took the word 'cyan' and added a few letters.

In case you're wondering, I'm thinking that Cyranis is pronounced Sigh-rah-nis. I know some people get concerned over that. Don't really get that, myself. If I can't verbalize a name, I usually just replace it with something. For the longest time, I didn't even bother trying to say Galbatorix which, in hindsight, is actually hilarious seeing as it is written out in the back... The funny thing is that I just called him Trixie.

I should really be asleep now. I just uploaded the first three chapters to a Naruto fanfiction and, in one of those A/Ns, debated the significance of temperature in reference to a damn. Because, really, when people say 'hot damn,' would a freezing damn be better or worse? A mild damn? A room temperature damn?

THESE ARE THINGS I WANT TO KNOW.

If you have a response for me, please leave it in that funny little review box.

Until next time (since I'm realizing that this A/N is getting to be ten percent of the chapter)

Sue


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